The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Tuesday, May 25, 2021

Seneca, Moral Letters 11.4


As I remarked, Wisdom can never remove this habit; for if she could rub out all our faults, she would be mistress of the Universe. 

 

Whatever is assigned to us by the terms of our birth and the blend in our constitutions, will stick with us, no matter how hard or how long the soul may have tried to master itself. And we cannot forbid these feelings any more than we can summon them.

 

Actors in the theater, who imitate the emotions, who portray fear and nervousness, who depict sorrow, imitate bashfulness by hanging their heads, lowering their voices, and keeping their eyes fixed and rooted upon the ground. 

 

They cannot, however, muster a blush; for the blush cannot be prevented or acquired. Wisdom will not assure us of a remedy, or give us help against it; it comes or goes unbidden, and is a law unto itself.

 

I always feel a bit uncomfortable around people who appeal to sayings like “If you can dream it, you can achieve it!” It isn’t that I wish to deny them any happiness, but rather that I know quite well how many things in our lives are far beyond our power. I am a part of the whole, even as I am not the master of the whole, and there is always a great danger in playing God. 

 

I am given a particular temperament, just as I will also find myself in certain circumstances. What I make of them will be entirely mine, though what I have to work with is in the realm of Providence. I should never feel the need to be in charge of everything, and a graceful willingness to accept the qualities of my own constitution is a necessary part of such a humility. 

 

Perhaps one is by nature disposed to being silent and sensitive, while another is inclined to being outspoken and rugged. This man may have the instinct to lead an army, while that man may have the urge to farm his cabbages. 

 

We are all created with different qualities. Why should I wish to change how I was made, just so I can be more like someone else? Whatever the set of feelings Nature provided, I always have the chance to employ them with wisdom and virtue. 

 

Some people, like tragic actors wearing a mask, will desperately try to simulate the appearance of passions. Sometimes the motive is sincere, and sometimes it is for the sake of manipulation, but in either case the copy will always pale in comparison to the real thing. 

 

All the exaggerated gestures or contorted faces cannot take the place of actually feeling an emotion, and feeling an emotion is not something merely turned off or on by choice. What comes before a choice is only subject to a choice after the fact; freedom works with my existing instincts, not in place of them. 

 

Some people can cry on command; can people ever blush on command? Even if they could, it wouldn’t be the same, since the signs on the outside aren’t caused by a heart on the inside. 

Written in 6/2012



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